Forever Endeavor
by Dark Destiny 1329
Summary: September 4, 2019: Jenna firmly believes she can save Wyatt and turn him good again, but Wyatt has some other plans. Set in dark world. [Sidestory]


**Forever Endeavor**

**Written by: Shan (aka charmedgrl4ever)**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Chris, Wyatt, or any other characters I forgot to mention. We do, however, own Jenna, Talia, Mel, and any others we forgot to mention and would appreciate it if you didn't steal our characters without (A) asking our permission and (B) giving us the credit for them. Thank you!**

**This fanfic is a sidestory to go along with the virtual Charmed Sons' show Dark Destiny. The link for the site can be found on the profile page for this account.**

* * *

It had been a little over eight months, and Jenna Beckett still could scarcely believe what Wyatt – her beloved Wyatt – had become. Not a day went by where she didn't wake up and, for the briefest moment, think, "Maybe – just maybe – this whole thing was a horrible dream." But then she'd open her eyes to a ceiling covered in a web of fairy magic – one of the protective charms against Wyatt's sensing powers. They needed all the help they could get to remain hidden from him, and the fairies had been gracious enough to offer their services in return for Chris's promise that he would do everything in his power to protect their race from harm befalling them. 

Just as she did every morning, the seventeen-year-old girl pulled open the drawer beside her bed, the one that held her few personal belongings. She cherished each and every one, for in times like these possessions were as scarce as blissful memories. They were practically nonexistent. She pushed away a small notebook she called her diary, one where – instead of writing love letters that would never be sent – she wrote the ever-growing list of casualties and her thoughts on who had perished.

Beneath it was a small box, which she lifted gingerly with both hands, cradling it carefully as if it were alive. And in a way it was – it possessed the only memories of her dead relatives and friends. It was the only remaining piece of Wyatt she had to tell her he had once been good and kind and loving to her. It was the one remaining piece of the boyfriend she used to have that reminded her he had once promised her the world and so much more.

Lifting the lid as she always did when she awoke, she examined a photo that curled at the edges. Three smiling faces looked back up at her, mocking her gaunt, depressed features. Her mother looked healthy and whole, and it was hard to imagine that this picture had been taken a mere month and a half before she had been killed. She was too strong and well to die, too young. How could it be that some bastard – some idiotic, self-obsessed jerk who had a bit too much to drink – could ruin the life of such a vibrant woman?

At the time Jenna had been only sixteen and Talia only fourteen – the same ages Wyatt and Chris had been when their mother had been murdered. Talia had taken it pretty well for a girl her age, but Jenna…

Well, Jenna had gone through another tragedy just beforehand; so she hadn't been faring too well even before… _the event_. After all, her boyfriend for over a year had turned his back on good magic and inevitably on her as well – and all just one month before her mother's death!

She, Talia, and their mother looked so beautiful in that picture, as if nothing could be wrong with the world. It was just before Wyatt had exposed magic (though not before his _own_ mother's death, so their relationship had begun to strain even then), and the worst thing for her had been which teachers she would have the following year.

It all seemed so scarily far away when in reality, Lindsay Beckett had died just under a year ago. In sixteen days it would be the year anniversary for Lindsay's death, and Jenna was dreading it. Little did she know she wouldn't have to for much longer…

Gently replacing the picture into the box, she picked up the dangling, gold necklace that was curled underneath it. Jenna had worn this until Wyatt had decided to expose magic to the non-magical world a little over a year ago. In a fit of rage, she had torn the piece of jewelry from her neck and hurled it at the wall. Only an incantation Wyatt had cast when he'd given it to her stopped it from shattering to pieces then.

Now, she wasn't sure _what_ she felt. She knew everyone probably hated Wyatt (except maybe his siblings), but she couldn't bring herself to say those words. Jenna didn't talk to anyone about her conflicting emotions except for Chris, who was her sister's best friend for years now. Even Prue, Wyatt and Chris's sister, seemed furious with Wyatt most of the time; and Jenna wasn't sure if the girl still loved her brother. Of course, it was logical for her to hate the bastard.

_The bastard who gave me this necklace and promised me we'd always be together, we'd always love each other,_ she couldn't help but think.

"Jenna!" came a call from outside the room, and a girl of fifteen barged into the room without so much as a single knock.

_Not that she has to since it's her room, too,_ Jenna thought to herself as Talia flopped down on the second bed. _But, you know, it'd be nice – in case I were dressing or something._

Before her sister could see what she was holding, Jenna stuffed the necklace back into the box, flushed in embarrassment. Talia had never understood how her big sister could love a monster like Wyatt. She and Wyatt didn't always get along to begin with (sister's prerogative and all since he was dating Jenna), and now that he was evil…

"What's up?" Jenna calmly replied, closing the box and replacing it in her dresser beside her few, grimy shirts and torn pants.

"Chris was looking for you," Talia flippantly remarked. "Something about something that has to do with someone connected to some guy."

Jenna raised an eyebrow, wondering which was scarier: that her sister could say that with such a straight face or that she, Jenna, actually _understood_ what Talia had said. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she murmured, "Thanks. Do you know where he is?"

"Oh, you know," Talia answered vaguely, "at that place." She waved an arm toward the door, and Jenna snorted, thinking, _How helpful._

"Thanks," Jenna replied shortly. She reached into her drawer to find the most presentable shirt in her possession and found a short-sleeved, plain black t-shirt. The reason it was probably most personable was due to the fact that it was short-sleeved – and therefore less likely to be ripped at the sleeves – and black – and therefore dirt and muck stains were less visible on it.

Pulling out a frilly, white skirt to go with it (she didn't care if it was dusty and worn; she _refused_ to wear all black), she threw it on, not bothering to turn around as she undressed. She and her sister were the best of friends. What would be the point of attempting to hide the bra that Talia herself had helped her pick out?

With a brief, "I'll be back," she exited the room and hurried toward "that place" that Talia had mentioned. While she walked, she let her mind wander to Wyatt, someone she always thought about in her spare time, someone she always wished she could forget. Her life would be so much less painful if she could just will herself to believe she had never known anyone other than the tyrant Wyatt had become. It would be so much easier to hate him that way.

The others could do it, so why couldn't she? Only Chris seemed to sympathize and even feel the same way, and she knew he wished just as much as she could that he could just loathe his brother like everyone else.

She stopped in front of a handsome, wooden door; bits and pieces chipped away from all of the times it had been slammed out of anger or frustration. Taking a moment to plaster a bright smile on her face (she knew he'd notice it was a fake, but it was habit to her to conceal the tumult within), she rapped loudly on the door. If she wasn't loud enough, she knew he wouldn't hear her, being so wrapped up in his thoughts.

Hearing a muffled, "Come in!" she pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Immediately to her right was a small dresser, a replica of the one in her room where she and Talia kept her clothes and keepsakes. To the other side was an aged, decrepit desk that looked as if it might collapse should there be the slightest draft in the room. Perhaps that was why Chris kept his room about seven degrees hotter than any sane human ever would.

"God, Chris," she muttered lightly as she always did upon entering the room, "Aren't you scorching in here?"

A shrug – his usual response – hunched his shoulders for a moment, and he beckoned her inside. When she failed to close the door behind her, he made a sharp, swift motion with his hand; and the door flew shut. She jumped.

A wry smile adorned his lips as he explained, "You were letting out the heat."

"Well," she remarked sarcastically, "We wouldn't want that, now would we? After all, we don't want everyone out in the 'real world' to die of heat stroke. You'd see mutiny." She moved closer to his bed, which was against the right wall. Draped over it, messily made, was an old quilt he'd salvaged from the manor long ago. He fingered it now, sitting cross-legged on the bed with paper strewn untidily in front of him.

"How are you?" he wondered quietly.

"What's with the small talk?" she quipped. "You never were one to make light conversation."

"Well… if you insist." His eyes darkened several shades as he gently murmured, "I'm worried about Talia."

"Oh?" Jenna replied, keeping her voice purposefully casual. In reality she had been thinking the exact same thing over the past few days. With their mother's death day anniversary drawing nearer, she wondered if perhaps it would cause her teenage sister to drive herself over the edge. Over the past year she had withdrawn from most of her friends, choosing instead to spend more and more time with her boyfriend, Mack, her sister, and her best friend, Chris. Her thoughts always revolved around either how stupid everyone's complaints were here at the Resistance (she had heard enough "I'm too hungry!" to last her as lifetime; people was so damned spoiled! Couldn't they see that everyone else was suffered just as much as they were?) or about Wyatt. Somehow, she theorized, Wyatt must have been behind Lindsay's death.

"She's been…" Chris struggled for the right word. "Angry," he murmured lamely at length. "I don't really know how to explain it – sort of… aggressive maybe? She won't listen to anyone; she won't think about the crazy stuff she sometimes says."

Jenna felt shameful – embarrassed for her sister as she realized what was likely happening. After all, no matter how evil Wyatt was, he would always be Chris's brother. It was already hard enough on poor Chris when he heard about all the evils Wyatt _did_ commit. Now his best friend was claiming something that wasn't likely – was barely _possible_ – that his brother had caused her mother's death. No wonder it was causing a strain on their friendship!

"I'll talk to her," Jenna offered. "You know how she can be." Shrugging helplessly, she said, "She's just broken up. I mean she and my mom never really had the perfect relationship. I was much closer with Mom than she was. And she always wanted to visit Dad, but he refused to visit any of us – when we knew where he was, that is. He was always moving; I think it was to avoid us, but I'd never tell Talia. It'd break her heart. She always felt like she had something in common with her or something. I don't know."

Taking a quick, deep breath she continued, "I think she feels sort of guilty about being short-tempered with Mom a lot of the time. And then, of course, Mom died, and…" Her voice trailed off, not wanting to say what she was openly admitting.

"I understand. Of course I understand. Wyatt and I were the same way with our parents," he admitted, to Jenna's immense surprise. Chris rarely talked about his past with _anyone_, despite the fact that she and Talia had known him for a while now. After his mother died, he sort of just closed down and shut himself away from everyone. His hope was that if he didn't get close to anyone else, he wouldn't put them at risk – he wouldn't put _himself_ at risk. His heart had already been broken once; he didn't need that again.

Wyatt, however, was exactly the opposite of his brother. Instead of bottling his emotions up where no one would notice them, he let them all stream out of him to burden the world. His powers – as out of control as his emotions – would wreak havoc on anything and everything until there was nothing left, until the world was barren and desolate.

"Yeah, Wyatt told me he was closer to your Dad than to your Mom," she replied, blushing as if confessing that she knew some horrible, tainted secret about him that he didn't want her to know.

"That's right," he said coolly, and he didn't bother to elaborate.

Jenna had seen Wyatt and Chris's father only once, and she barely remembered him. Vaguely, she remembered a head of blonde hair just like his eldest son, compassionate eyes, though they barely glanced at his family. He stayed long enough to tell the Charmed Ones of a looming threat before vanishing in a stream of orbs, one of the only things he and his younger son seemed to share.

Whenever anyone offered any semblance of pity or sympathy, he coldly deflected them by matter-of-factly informing them that he was better of than both his siblings were. He was better off than Prue, the youngest and possessing absolutely _no_ memories of her father, who had left when she was fewer than three months old. And he was more fortunate than Wyatt, who'd been forced to live with the man two years longer than lucky, ol' Chris. Chris had only had to put up with Leo for the first couple of years of his life.

And, so confused at this statement, whoever was trying to pity him in the first place would simply wander away from him, which is what Chris had wanted to begin with.

"Look," Jenna said helplessly, hating the awkward silence that settled between them, "I'll talk to her." Then, off his closed expression, she insisted, "I _will_," as if he were refuting her somehow with that distant look.

A halfhearted smile flitted across his lips fleetingly. "Thanks," he murmured in a subdued tone. "I just hate to see her hurting like this all the time. And I know Mack cares about her a lot, but she has other friends, too."

Over the years Jenna and Chris had become friendlier by default – best friend's sister is bound to meet (and hopefully like) her sister's best friend. And a boyfriend's little brother is also bound to sneak into the picture somehow. Jenna and Chris were connected in both ways, so it was inevitable that the two wouldn't share a few conversations. Jenna had almost come to adopt Chris has a younger brother of sorts, despite the fact that he had been so closed that she barely knew a sliver about him.

Chris liked Mack; he really did. Perhaps he liked him just because he _knew_ Wyatt _wouldn't_, but he didn't think that was the true reason. Mack was tough, sharp, almost exactly like Wyatt. And he loved Talia with all his heart, something else Chris shared with him. To him Talia was like another sister. Talia and Prue always got along, too, which brought the family ties deeper with them.

Chris had been ten years old when he'd met Talia, and they clicked from the start. She attended Magic School from an early age while Chris only just transferred that year. Although his mother (Chris tried not to think about her) wanted her children to have a life as normal and human as possible, she accepted that her children had to make a choice at some point. At the age of ten for each child, she gave Wyatt, Chris, and then Prue the option of transferring. They had all immediately seized the offer, much to Piper's dismay.

Wyatt was well-liked the moment he set foot into Magic School, though whether it was due to his powers, his fame, or actually his personality – Chris wasn't sure. Prue… Well, Prue was a likeable person. Anyone who came into contact with her would immediately fall in love with her wild and outgoing love for excitement. She fit right in with whatever crowd she hung out with. Chris, though…

Chris was secretive, he liked to be alone, and emotions rarely showed in his closed, emerald gaze. In short he was what Talia liked to call _anti-social_. He hated pity, so he didn't want friends because he was something pathetic or because he was a famous Halliwell. He wanted to be liked for who he was; the trouble was he doubted _anyone_ would like who he was.

So it was definitely a surprise when he and Talia hit it off almost instantly. Of course, they met each other in detention only twelve days after he began school. They were in the same class but never actually noticed each other because the first thing Chris did was make sure he chose the seat in the farthest corner in the room. Talia more preferred to be the center of attention and therefore situated herself somewhere in the front row – so that anyone who looked up would notice her.

* * *

"So what did he want?" Talia asked in a bored tone as Jenna slipped back inside the room and sank onto her bed, closing her eyes – mentally exhausted. 

"Oh, you know Chris," Jenna murmured with a soft smile, hoping Talia wouldn't probe further. She should have known her sister better than that; after all, Talia was… _Talia._

Talia's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I haven't known him as of late," she muttered, watching her sister carefully for a reaction. "He's been nothing but a pain in the ass since about a year ago." She dared not say the words _Mom's Death_, as if it would somehow contaminate her. "For someone who's gone through the same thing before, you'd think he'd be more understanding."

"Come on, Talia," Jenna sighed in protest. "Of course he knows how you feel —"

"Then why doesn't he _act_ like it?" Talia demanded hotly, storming over to her sister's bed and glaring down at the older girl.

"Because he's Chris. He doesn't know how to express his emotions to people; that's just who he is. I don't know why you're asking _me_ this seeing as you're supposed to know him better than I do. He's _your_ best friend, not mine."

"Yeah," Talia snapped, furious that her sister had turned on her, "but _you're_ the one screwing his brother."

Jenna shot up off her bed incredulously; Talia would _never_ say that to her. "_What_ did you say?" she demanded, livid.

"You heard me," Talia shot back. "You're probably the one leaking information to Wyatt, aren't you? I should go tell Chris I've found the traitor, shouldn't I?" she taunted, tears collecting in her eyes. She brushed them back and glared back at Jenna.

"Talia, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Jenna screamed. "You _know_ I'd never betray the Resistance like that. I wouldn't betray _you_ like that. You're my _family_, Talia. Wyatt is just… _was_ just my boyfriend. I can't believe you'd even _think_ that about me." Tears clouded her vision as well, but she let them fall, knowing with each tear Talia would feel more and guiltier.

_Yeah, well, she deserves to feel like dirt,_ she thought in fury as she stormed out of their room, leaving Talia standing there, staring at her receding back.

She knew Talia didn't mean it, but it hurt just the same to hear her angry tone. Despite the fact that she knew it was just Talia's sorrow building up from their mother's death, she couldn't help but resent her sister for taking out the pain on her. It wasn't like she wasn't hurting either. Lindsay was her mother, too.

* * *

When she returned to her room a few hours later, Talia was no where to be found. Pretending that didn't worry her, Jenna opened her drawer and searched around until she found the necklace Wyatt had given her. Just to spite her little sister, she opened the clasp and replaced it around her neck, feeling the familiar sensation of the cool, smooth chain settling on her skin. She missed this. She missed wearing the necklace and feeling the security that came with it – the knowledge that Wyatt Halliwell loved her. 

Steeling her resolve, she shook her head, falling onto her bed. She still loved Wyatt with every fiber of her being (or the person Wyatt used to be), and some part of her hoped the feeling wasn't unrequited. She knew at least that he _used_ to love her.

"I can stop him," she murmured suddenly, sitting up at the realization. "He told me he loved me more than anyone!"

She and Chris were the only ones that could do this. The two brothers' bond was as close as the Charmed Ones' bond themselves. They were inextricably connected, those two; and Chris was probably the one most likely to get through to Wyatt.

However, Chris was the leader of the Resistance, too important a person to be sneaking around to his brother behind everyone's back. Jenna knew he would never break the Resistance's trust and let his brother reenter his life.

_I'm the only other option,_ she thought; and that realization didn't scare her nearly as much as it should have. Numbly, she stood, rifling through her drawer for any possessions she might have to or want to take along with her. Perhaps she had some objects from her time with Wyatt that might stir up some pity and compassion within those heartless pools of blue eyes.

Finding nothing besides the necklace, she touched the gold heart dangling from the chain, closing her eyes as her fingers roved over its long-ago familiar features. She could feel the engraved words on the back that she had seen him carve herself with magic: _Wyatt and Jenna always._

As a tear slipped down her cheek, she scrawled a note to her sister that she left on her bed, promising to return before morning. Nightfall had already come, and despite the argument that the two had left between them she didn't want Talia to worry. However, she left out where she was going, knowing that would only give Talia another reason to suspect betrayal. She didn't need that, not now.

* * *

"Milord," a deep voice rumbled, echoing through the cavernous space, making it nearly impossible to comprehend the single, respectful title. A demon stepped forward, shadows throwing his face into darkness. A trench coat hung loosely from his shoulders, and his combat boots fit in almost perfectly with his gloomy surroundings. 

"_What?_" hissed a callous, impatient voice from the other end of the room. He had ordered his minions not to disturb him, and what did they do? The instant he retreated to the cavern, a demon appeared before him. Didn't they know how to follow instructions? Perhaps Mel was right about demons and their inability to follow directions.

"A witch was found snooping around," the demon replied, a tremor quivering in his tone, knowing he was about an inch away from an excruciating death. Wyatt didn't like to be disturbed.

"Should I care? I've told you hundreds of times before to vanquish any witches against me." His tone bored, he flicked a lazy wrist at the demon, who flinched involuntarily at the movement. To his relief his body remained completely intact, though for how long he wasn't sure.

"This one's different, sir," he said quickly. "She says she knows you and needs to speak with you."

Wyatt laughed at that, a cruel sound that prompted a shiver from the demon. "All right, I suppose I have time to humor one lousy witch. Where is she; what's her name?"

"She won't say," the demon stammered. "We're holding her in the darklighter cave until —"

"Well, send her here, then," Wyatt snapped with mounting irritation. When the demon bowed and shimmered out of the cave, Wyatt muttered, "Idiot. Does everything need to be completely spelled out?"

When the demon reappeared with a bound and gagged witch in tow, it took all of Wyatt Halliwell's self control not to let his jaw drop. Absently, he waved a hand at the demon, immediately summoning a bout of flames, vanquishing him with one, fleeting scream of agony. At the same time the witch's bindings vanished.

"Come to join me, Jenna?" he asked with a careless smile.

Jenna had promised herself she wouldn't break down but seeing Wyatt now wasn't helping any. Tears collected in her eyes, and they overflowed, cascading down her cheeks in torrents. "Please," she begged. "Wyatt, please stop this." She had prepared a speech, but all memory of it vanished at the sight of her boyfriend so indifferent like this. "You're destroying the world; you're destroying _yourself!_

"I love you!" she sobbed in desperation. "Or at least… I used to; I still want to. Please, Wyatt," she murmured in a small voice, "just come back with us. Come home."

A malicious laugh echoed through the cavern, and Jenna cringed at the unlikely sound from Wyatt's lips. "This is why you came?" he asked, suddenly angry. _"This is why you came? _Do you think this is some sort of game? I don't need you, _witch_. You mean nothing to me; you never did."

"You don't mean that," Jenna whispered uncertainly.

"You dare tell _me_ what is the truth and what a lie?" he snarled. "I'll _prove_ it to you, Jenna. I care nothing more for you than any common witch." Then, bringing his proof, he raised a hand above his head.

A swirl of bright orbs appeared, carrying with them a fifteen-year-old girl dressed in torn pajamas.

"No!" Jenna screamed, dashing forward.

Holding up a hand, Wyatt stopped Jenna in her tracks. Invisible ropes seemed to tie around the girl as she looked on helplessly at her ex-boyfriend walking towards her baby sister.

"Wyatt, please," she begged, tears streaming, "Stop this."

"You don't believe me," he replied nonchalantly. "I have to give you proof that I care nothing for a witch like you. It's your own fault this is happening."

With those heartless words spoken, he conjured an athame in his hand, stepping closer to the terrified teen. She too was unable to escape and watched him close in on her, fear filling her eyes.

"Let me go, bastard!" she screamed, her mouth still working.

He chuckled, shaking his head pityingly. "It's too bad, you know. You would have made a great witch, and I could almost like your personality." His hand closed tightly around her arm, dragging her upwards and bringing the knife to her skin. Painfully slowly, he etched an 'X' into the girl's skin, and it magically caught fire, burning brightly.

A scream tore past her lips as fresh tears appeared on her cheeks. The agony was almost unbearable.

"No, please!" Jenna cried. "I'll do anything; I promise you! Just don't hurt her!"

"It's too late," he hissed, lifting the athame again and raising it. His eyes locking on Jenna's, he swung the dagger down, piercing Talia's heart.

"_NO!_"

She was dead before the scream left her older sister's lips, and Jenna was instantly freed from the bindings, though she felt as if she couldn't move. Her hands flew to her face to hide her tears and her guilt, and she sobbed openly, murmuring her sister's name over and over again.

Then, crawling to the girl's limp body, her expression filled with justified rage and fury. She leapt to her feet and charged at Wyatt, but he merely laughed out loud at her pathetic attempt.

"Come now," he crooned, holding up a hand and again freezing her where she was. She struggled in vain to break out of his hold. Sauntering over to her, he picked up the necklace resting over her heart. "Did you think I would feel remorse, seeing you here wearing that?" he queried angrily. He tore it from her neck, and it melted in his grasp. She watched her last remaining good memory of her boyfriend slowly vanish before her eyes and wondered how she ever loved a beast like Wyatt.

"You make me sick, Jenna," he said, so calmly it could have been a comment about the weather. "You're weak and pathetic, and I'd like nothing more than to take your life." And then a smirk curved his sharp features into some semblance of a smile.

Yanking her head back by her hair, he hissed into her ear, "Don't worry, I'll make sure Talia is always with you." Then, on the same arm he did to Talia, he slowly carved the letter 'T' into Jenna's skin. After it came 'A' and 'L'. By the time he added the last two letters of Talia's name, Jenna was shrieking in agony, begging for him to kill her now.

He heard her pleas and laughed as if it were the funniest joke in the world. If her stomach hadn't been completely empty, she would have thrown up.

"Since I'm feeling sort of merciful"—she snorted, and he lividly dug the knife deeper into her skin, prompting a whimper—"I'll end this quickly. Besides, I'm getting bored with you. I already did years ago, but you haven't seemed to have gotten the memo. Well, I hope you understand now. I—don't—love—you." He smiled again. "Get it?"

She did nothing but cry harder, attempting to push away her pain. "Talia…" she moaned with the last of her strength.

Leaving the dagger deep in her arm, Wyatt summoned Excalibur. Without another word he ran Jenna through the stomach with the glittering sword. She let out a weak gasp, and blood bubbled to her lips.

As she fell off the sword and into a lifeless, mangled heap on the floor, he smirked, "I think you finally learned your lesson, don't you?" Calmly, he wiped her blood off the sword onto her shirt and turned away from the two corpses that littered the floor. Without a backwards glance he orbed out of the cavern that held nothing for him – no love, no recollections of better times, nothing but the bodies of two dead witches.

* * *

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